Home
by Tadpole24
Summary: As searing pain cuts through his chest once more, he feels grateful for Emma Swan, perhaps the one thing he is truly intrigued by in this world. Captain Swan drabble set after 'Lacey' and continuing from there.
1. Chapter 1

_It occurred to me during 'Lacey' that Hook has had it pretty rough since arriving in our world. He's not doing too well, so maybe he wants to go home. And then this little drabble happened. It really is just something little to get the thoughts out of my head. _

_Set after the events of 'Lacey'! As always, would love to see you over on Twitter ( tadpole24_) and Tumblr (wonder24). _

_Disclaimer: Not even remotely mine :(_

_Enjoy!_

..:::..

Home

..:::..

He winces against the light being shone at him. Everything in this world is so bright. It hurts. Everything hurts. His body is bruised and beaten and his legs are numb from where he has been confined in this space. He tries to draw himself in, but that damn light throws him off. He can do nothing but glance around wildly at the people in front of him before turning his gaze from them to try and compose himself.

But seemingly satisfied with what they have seen, they close the door on him and he's plunged from blinding light into swallowing darkness once again. Bested by people who actually scare him. This isn't like the beanstalk with Emma. They don't need a head start on him, oh no, he's being held captive for a purpose.

He knows the movement will start again, the rocking and bumping and nausea inducing acceleration. He struggles against his bindings, knowing full well that his efforts will be wasted, but trying nonetheless. A blinding pain rips through his still healing ribs and he lets out a cry, shifting his arm within the rope, his elbow bumping tender flesh.

This is not the life he had chosen.

This is not what he had wanted.

Revenge for the sake of himself is different to revenge for the sake of others and he knows that these two, this Tamara and Greg, will want him for ill deeds of their own.

He pulls again, biting down hard on his gag, sweat breaking across his brow as the vehicle begins to move just as he had anticipated. The sickness swells in his gut, a combination of the motion and the excruciating pain he's in, but he continues to bite down on the gag, ignoring the way his mouth is watering and the burn of bile in his throat.

And he feels the slide. His arm moves a little more freely against his side, the pain easing just slightly with the relief of actually accomplishing something. This world has been harsh to him, leaving him broken and more Killian than Hook. He feels defeated and lost, something he thought he had left behind him in Neverland all those years ago.

He wriggles his partially freed arm enough that it is able to bend around the ropes tying him and remove the gag from his mouth. With a shake of his head he focuses on somehow making his way from the moving room he is in.

He grits his teeth and leans forward, hoping a new angle will allow him to pull his other arm completely free. He has been shamed, his hook ripped from him by the Swan girl in New York. And though it feels humiliating, leaving him unable to defend himself, right now, as his limb slips through the coils of rope, he feels grateful for one less thing he has to untangle from his binds. As searing pain cuts through his chest once more, he feels grateful for Emma Swan, perhaps the one thing he is truly intrigued by in this world.

Pushing down on the ropes, he is able to free his other arm, readying himself for any oncoming attack. He thinks of Emma and his hook and his objective for getting out of here. This isn't about his revenge anymore, this isn't about skinning his Crocodile. No, this is about survival now. Because this world is harsh and unforgiving, this world has disabled him, pushed him from his comfort. It has ripped the power from him and left him a shell of his persona. This is about leaving the world that has made him no longer menacing and sure, that has let him become a slave to this realm, living by others' rules, no longer a pirate.

This is about getting home.

..:::..

Emma kisses Henry's forehead as she tucks him into bed, taking in the last moments of peace in their apartment before the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach sets in.

She collects her coat and heads out the front door, closing it softly behind her, not wanting to wake her parents or her son. Once outside, she just stops and stares ahead, not really focusing on anything, but wanting to be doing something, _anything_ to keep her mind off what had happened today.

It's hard for her not knowing what it's like having two sets of memories inside of her. She can't even begin to fathom how everyone else in this town feels. Torn between two worlds. Wanting to go home to a place that has been knocked to the ground, but being drawn to their lives in this world where they have built homes and set down roots.

She begins to walk, not really knowing where she wants to wander to, but just looking around at this town that she now calls home. She had moved from Boston to here so suddenly when she could see her son was hurting. She had moved for family when she had never had family before. And now she has more family than she can keep track of and they're asking her to move again. To move with them.

For them.

Could she do it? Could she go to the place that they call home? Just leave everything in this realm behind and make a new start in a world that she has no fond memories of.

Well…maybe one fond memory.

Her feet eventually take her to the docks, her boots clicking on the wooden boardwalks before she finds herself precisely where she knows the Jolly Roger lies. She steps aboard as an overwhelming pull draws her in; it calls out to her, a kindred spirit of sorts, and she allows herself to admit that talking to Hook right now would be of benefit to her.

She wants to know if he could ever live here knowing his home world still exists, knowing that it would carry on without him. She wants to know how he feels only having one set of memories within him. Does it affect him, does it change him, does it make him different from everyone else?

It's not a choice she could have seen herself making only months ago, but now, faced with the prospect of having to choose between a world she knows so well and a world she has only stepped foot in once, she feels the pirate is one of the only people in all the realms who could understand her.

She sits at the helm of the ship, staring out at the ocean, wondering what the hell kind of trouble that pirate has found himself in; wishing, waiting, hoping that he could lead her home.

..:::..

_Thoughts? :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_I couldn't help it. After watching 'The Evil Queen' it was solidified in my mind that I had to write a little extra to this fic. So many of you asked for a second chapter and I couldn't stop thinking about it and this is the result :)_

_Contains minor spoilers from 'Second Star to the Right' from the extended promo, but nothing huge. _

_You are all wonderful! Hope this lives up to expectations!_

_Enjoy!_

..:::..

Home

Part Two

..:::..

The Crocodile is alive.

Alive and thriving it would seem.

It's this thought alone that drives him. A punishing reminder that he has once again failed, a reminder of the way his life has become a joke in this horrendous world. He has one ambition, one moment of glory to achieve, that is all.

But though it is a life of pain and disappointment that has chosen him, he still finds himself happy to have a purpose. Because the alternative that is starting to make itself known to him is one of desolate emptiness.

He is positive his blackened heart still beats within his chest and he is certain his betraying organ is the one reason he finds himself walking away from watching Regina being tortured. The woman may have double crossed him more times that he cares to count, but she is not of his concern. Harm will only befall the Crocodile in his presence and that's that, because it is the only purpose he's allowed himself.

As he hears the Evil Queen's cries from outside the room he closes his eyes for a moment, his own words echoing in his mind. This constant pursuit of revenge may be his downfall in the end. He allows himself a moment to mourn for his former ally's pain before setting off.

Greg is distracted by torture and Tamara is talking into a small device about an update. Hook finds his way easily past them both and relishes in the daylight touching his skin.

Acknowledging the need to keep a low profile, he slinks along back streets and behind buildings until he reaches the docks, the calming scent of the water welcoming him back after so long away. His boots kick along the pier until he finds the edge of his cloaked ship and with a quick glance around, he makes his way on board, breathing in the scent of the familiar decks.

The sight that greets him is not one of expectation. However, as he moves up the stairs towards a curled up, sleeping Emma, he finds himself glad that she is there. The tickling feeling of something nags at the back of his mind and he realises with a jolt that maybe this woman is his continued purpose. He can't explain it even to himself, but she makes his life feel less empty, he gives her feelings of determination outside of revenge.

With a completely overwhelming moment of clarification deep within his soul, he realises that his revenge in no way encompasses this woman. She is separate from that part of his life and it thrills him on a level he is honestly frightened of. For so long he hasn't been able to fathom life beyond his vengeance, but looking at the blonde princess at the helm of his ship, he knows he will have an identity after killing the Crocodile. He wants her to know how important she is, how precious she is in his eyes, how without even doing a thing, she is everything that can make things right with him.

He reaches out a hand, gently brushing hair from her face, his fingertips touching her skin and feeling for a moment just how cold she is. Sleeping all night on a pirate's ship with little to protect her but a coat can't be up there with the smartest things she has done, but it warms him to know that she cares. If not for him, then for his ship. But that's enough. More than enough.

With a strong feeling in his gut pulling him forward, he whispers, "Swan."

..:::..

She curses as her breath floats from her lips to be visible in the air, a stark reminder of the weather. She had promised herself that she wouldn't sleep here tonight, that she would be strong enough to leave this ship and go home to her warm and lonely bed. That tonight she wouldn't spend all her time thinking of the dark pirate and how she might truly care for him.

They are similar, that's all. They have a few important traits in common, a few things that she would like to speak with him about, to really get his opinion on. It's not like that makes them destined for each other. It's not like she spends her nights asleep on his ship hoping for him to come home.

She shakes her head as she pulls her coat more securely around her. Thinking that she would go home if she didn't have a blanket had been a stupid idea. Of course she was going to stay here. She couldn't help herself. The calming sound of the water lapping at the sides of the Jolly Roger have been lulling her to sleep for the past few nights and now she's unsure she could ever live without it. Well, if she's being honest, and as night descends around her and she feels her chest tighten with the cold she can't find a reason not to be, it's the sounds of the sea as well as the subtle connections to the pirate that keep her here.

She can feel his presence aboard this ship even when he is nowhere near here. She can feel the ship calling its master home and in her weaker moments, she joins in. Hoping that Killian will return.

When her eyes open on the new day, her hopes are answered as his calloused fingertips brush at her cheek. Her body is frozen with the cold air around them, but the path his hands have begun to trace on her skin is blazing hot.

"Swan," her name is whispered again as the haze of sleep begins to lift from her mind and she finds herself wanting to answer him. After these last few days, sleeping here on his ship, she wants nothing more but to talk.

But the words won't come.

So they stare at each other, longing stretching between the mere inches that separate them. It's inexplicable, they've barely spent any time together, but there is a pull, a moment of trust suspended between them.

"Why are you here, love?"

She swallows, her eyes darting away from his, the tension all too much at once, "I just…I needed to speak to you."

He can sense her anxiety, her nerves and the inner turmoil she must be feeling. He can read her like a book, know exactly how being caught here must be affecting her, "I knew you'd be back. No woman can resist my charms for long."

His cocky tone catches her off guard, but at the same time puts her at ease. It's familiar, it's warm. It doesn't make her question what the hell is going on here.

She laughs darkly, a breathy sound escaping her in the cool morning air, knowledge that she is about to reveal a part of herself to him rippling through her soul, "We're too alike, Hook. We deflect when it's too hard. We make a joke of it."

Concern is evident in his gaze as his features soften once more, touching his fingertips against her cheek again, "If you wish to speak, I would very much like to listen."

She frowns. No. He's supposed to be impatient and abrupt. He's supposed to make her hate him. But instead he keeps on surprising her, "Do you miss your land? Do you ever want to go home?"

He's guarded, she can see that, but she can also see that he wouldn't lie to her. She doesn't know what makes her so special to this pirate, she only knows what she can read in his face, "I'm not bound to land any longer. I chase my home on this very vessel."

It doesn't come as a real shock to her when she finds herself nodding in complete understanding. This ship does feel something like protection and hope. "Thank you." The words slip out of her mouth before she can censor them, see if they make any sense in the context of their conversation.

"For what?"

And she's caught, because she can't hide from him inside a lie. He knows her like no one else. It isn't supposed to be like this. It isn't supposed to feel so right. He is a pirate, but in her heart she knows that she is as well.

She shrugs, reaching up and lacing her fingers through the ones still dancing on her cheek, "For being honest. For being you."

He leans in then, barely brushing his lips against hers, testing the waters, his ship once more guiding him to a potential place to settle.

Right here. This is them. This is how they're meant to feel.

This is home.

..:::..

_Marking this as complete for now, but it's been shown that I can be persuaded to write more…so try your best ;) _


	3. Chapter 3

_I can't help it. I just want to keep adding to this :)_

_So there are some parts which are canon here, some parts which are not. I've taken a shot from the promo for next week and incorporated that in. Pre-warning that there is some Emma/Neal analysis in here, but essentially it's always going to be Captain Swan :)_

_Thank you to those of you who are constantly encouraging me to write more. You're the reason this fic exists :)_

..:::..

Home

Part 3

..:::..

She wanders and doesn't remember where she has been. It's been only an hour since she had lost her grip on Neal down that portal and there were still a couple of hours before she would have to face Henry and tell him the gut wrenching news that his father had disappeared with little to no hope for survival.

If she were in an optimistic mood she would say that Neal could make it. He's a tough man who has been through a lot; she had seen the scars that crisscrossed all over his body when they had been together. He had told her of nasty nights living on the streets but she knows better now, she knows of the magical realms from which he came and the dangers that lurk in his home.

Tears gather in her eyes again as her mind takes her to the cannery and the green light and the stark red of his blood everywhere. On her clothes, in her hair, on her hands.

She ducks into an alleyway as sobs overtake her body. Her back against the cool brick wall, she tips her head forward, burying it in her hands. This cannot be happening.

She thinks of her words to him, her love for him, and it hurts. It hurts more than she could imagine. It's like him leaving her with that watch eleven years ago all over again. With her hand over that portal she had seen the decision he had faced shining in his eyes and she couldn't let their story go without an ending again. She may have stopped being in love with him a long time ago, but seeing how much he has been trying with Henry and trying to accept his past there was no denying that she had love for him still.

Her mind flashes to Hook and the brief kiss they had shared only this morning aboard his ship. The feelings that stir within her at those thoughts are so different to the ones she has for Neal, but everything right now hurts. She just wants easy.

Taking a deep breath and shuddering on the exhale, she tries to compose herself enough to continue her walk. She knows she's a mess, Neal's blood still in her nail beds, her face tear streaked and puffy, a bruise forming on her cheekbone, but she has to try to keep going. Neal had sacrificed himself for the sake of Henry. When the time comes, she has to show him that people can make it out the other side. People can be strong.

As she approaches the docks, where curiously, she can _see_ the Jolly Roger, she reprimands herself internally for being this person. The type who needs another. Her hand absently touches her chest where her pendant once lay. But it is gone, just as Neal is and another wave of uncontrollably burning sadness hits her again.

And it's that which does it in the end. The feeling in the pit of her stomach that aches when her heart does pulls her closer to Hook and his ship, the place that just that morning she had felt utterly at home on.

..:::..

He feels the earth shudder beneath his feet as they strike down on the trigger, the small stone that will end this town and all the magic in it. His hook reaches out to grasp at the wooden support beams in the mining tunnel, holding himself up as a dangerous smoke leeches from the stone, turning the ground to grass almost immediately, erasing the magically built town second by second.

And he regrets it.

He regrets teaming up with these two and focusing solely on his revenge. He regrets not saying more to Emma, not having the time to do so. He regrets it so much that it hurts.

So he runs. He runs hard and fast from the crumbling mine shaft, swinging himself out of the collapsing entry and making his way to the docks.

Only this morning he had been with Emma aboard his ship and he realises now, with a painful blow, that if this town is destroyed, so is she. So is her happiness and any chance at his. The Crocodile's face looms in his memory, but it fades in comparison to her. The first person to give him hope in over three centuries.

The magic seeping from the town takes the cloaking spell from his ship and for the first time since they had anchored here, he sees the Jolly Roger for all its glory in the bay of Storybrooke. He doesn't even stop to catch his breath as he takes long strides across the pier and onto his vessel to prepare her for sailing.

It's not even ten minutes later that he hears the familiar sounds of boots on his decks. He calls out instructions to her, asking for her assistance or to go collect as many people as possible because he's going to take them away from here. But as her face turns towards him in the early afternoon sun, he catches the wet trails of her tears in his sights and comes to a standstill.

"Emma, what is wrong?" He climbs down a small ladder, coming to stand in front of her, cupping her cheek and brushing a tear away from her face, "Did she hurt you? Did Tamara hurt you?"

She shakes her head and then leans forward, craving the feeling of being held. She just needs human contact, needs to know that someone can be her anchor, "Neal is gone."

He had suspected something scandalous had happened between the two, but the tone of her voice does not convey a recent romance and part of him, a part he is very ashamed of, is grateful for that. It is defeat he hears though. It's a loss more hefty than merely another person, no, she carries the weight of a loss of a part of herself.

"I'm so sorry, lass."

She wraps her arms around him tightly, drawing herself closer to him, "I don't know what to do."

He pulls back then, grasping her shoulders, "I don't know how to fix what has happened, but I do know that we need to move, my dear."

She frowns, "What?" She's been so completely self-absorbed that she didn't even realise there are extra ropes on the ground and sails in the air, "Where are you going?"

He watches her carefully, "Anywhere but here. Tamara and Greg, they've found a way to destroy Storybrooke and I feel as though if I can fit a few on the ship, I can get you away. Be kind of a saviour to the saviour." His eyes search her for a reaction to his words.

But her expression reveals nothing. She is lost. Lost in her own mind, her youth stripped from her only hours ago. She is a different person and he's not sure what to do.

Something crashes behind them and their attention shifts to the town, thick vines curling around the buildings, crushing them and bringing them to the ground. Emma stares at the mess, horrified, while Hook springs back to action, throwing himself around the ship, preparing it for a long sail, "Please Emma, I need help."

She looks at him then, turns her back on her falling home and really looks at him. The way his eyes are begging and sure. He wants to save people. This is a man changed by this world. He had come here a revenge filled pirate, but now, not once had he mentioned skinning his Crocodile. Not once did he say she could collect people to save, but leave the man who he sought revenge on. He was willing to save whoever he could. Which is something that, today of all days, she could relate to. "Okay," she whispers.

He smiles at her, his heart aching for the way she is staring at the place she had called home, "We'll make it right, love. It'll be okay."

She thinks of what he told her this morning about finding his home on the sea. How the Jolly Roger finds base for him. A small burst of hope ignites in her at that point as she faces the pirate, the man she trusts, once more, "I know."

..:::..


End file.
